


Meeting at the Crossroads

by ConstantlyStories



Series: Embrace Dreaming no More [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Quirrel is kinda confused, almost forgot that one, the knight is a strange eldritch void creature, they explore hallownest together; the knight complains and Quirrel marvels at the architecture, they're friends tho so it's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyStories/pseuds/ConstantlyStories
Summary: The ruins of Hallownest are full of wonders and danger alike. When exploring such a place, it's best to bring a friend.Quirrel is the first bug in the Crossroads to not attack the Knight on sight. The Knight is a strange and slightly disconcerting little thing, but actually listens when Quirrel starts rambling about history. It only makes sense to travel together.
Relationships: The Knight & Quirrel (Hollow Knight)
Series: Embrace Dreaming no More [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625965
Comments: 30
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic ever and it's pretty much my incredibly indulgent attempt to make myself feel better after this game broke my heart. Quirrel accompanies the Knight on their adventure because they are friends and I said so.
> 
> A lot of Quirrel's spoken dialogue is taken directly from the game. If it sounds familiar, that's because it is.

The temple of the black egg stood dark and somber, an imposing figure that contrasted sharply with the quiet ruin of the town above. The entire structure seemed to hum with ancient energy that hung thick and heavy, like some kind of invisible fog. Supposedly all of Hallownest was plagued by poisonous air, but the feeling shifted closer to the temple. Not really in a bad way, but certainly not in a good way. Just a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, the kind that sent shivers down one’s shell without explaining why until it was too late.

Quirrel had almost missed Dirtmouth when he’d first arrived, nearly mistaking it to be entirely empty. Empty ruins weren’t uncommon, and it at least meant he was in the right place.

He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or saddened that it was not the case.

Dirtmouth might have been a quaint little town at one point, most likely harboring its own marvels and mysteries, but currently it looked almost as much a wasteland as that which lay beyond the howling cliffs. What kind of life could one lead, living in such a place?

Elderbug had welcomed him kindly, and the bench in the center of the town had been as good a place to rest as any (he’d certainly found worse), but it wasn’t Dirtmouth that Quirrel had come so far to find.

The forgotten crossroads were about as bleak as the name suggested.

Quirrel wasn’t surprised at the strangely sweet smell that filled the caverns. Elderbug had warned him of the poison that hung in the air below, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity that went beyond simple preparedness. Had he encountered this before? He couldn’t recall.

His footsteps had echoed loudly as he walked, eyeing the ancient caverns warily. There was little of the promised grandeur to be seen here, but that didn’t mean there weren’t threats lurking in the shadows. Quirrel had wasted little time diving down the well, eager to explore the kingdom that had been calling to him so strongly, but that didn’t mean he’d left all caution aboveground.

The small skittering bugs were not a surprise; Quirrel had seen similar all along the Howling Cliffs and then through the King’s Pass. They were easy enough to sidestep or dispatch when avoidance wasn’t possible.

The reanimated husks were a bit more shocking.

Quirrel hadn’t really expected to meet many fellow explorers in his journey, especially after hearing Elderbug go on about the many adventurers who had gone down the well, never to return again. When he’d heard footsteps, he’d been cautiously optimistic (despite everything, Hallownest was a tempting destination for adventure seekers and the like. He couldn’t possibly be the only one there).

The optimism faded when he saw the walking corpses.

They were easy enough to avoid, wandering listlessly with empty eyes and little direction. None seemed to notice Quirrel as he took a higher path, jumping lightly over rocky outcroppings and then up to what looked like a stone shelf.

But why were they there? Quirrel might’ve mistook them for common bugs without the mind to do other than wander, but these walking husks were certainly dead. The smell of rot clung to them as the husks moved, placing one shaky and unfeeling limb in front of the other, body swaying as if it had nearly forgotten how to stay upright. What kind of thing could do something like that? What great tragedy had befallen that a bug might not rest even in death?

Quirrel didn’t have an answer (Should he? He felt like he should) and thoughts of the wandering husks faded when the Temple came into view. Its dark form took shape from the shadows and loomed overhead, the roof touching a nearly unseen ceiling. All fell quiet and the air went still and dead. It seemed like even the husks didn’t wander here.

Having been traveling for a while now, Quirrel knew without a doubt that the structure would’ve caught his eye regardless of whatever else might be going through his head. One didn’t have to be an avid traveler, historian, or mystery seeker to guess that the place held some kind of significance to the ones who’d built it.

However, as he slowly stepped through the entrance and into the space within, Quirrel felt like there was something else dragging him forward, something aside from his own rabid curiosity. Perhaps it was the air, cloying his mind and luring him into one of Hallownest’s many death traps. Perhaps it was whatever might be sealed behind the door with the symbols on it (symbols that looked faintly familiar, like the sleep-hazed memory of a dream, but gave him a headache if he looked too long). Such symbols must mean something?

Despite the heavy atmosphere, the longer he stood there, the more Quirrel was convinced that he was relatively safe from the husks that wandered about outside. While he wasn’t naïve enough to think he could linger there all day (not that he’d want to anyways; there was more to find!) there would be little harm in resting there and studying the mysterious symbols just a bit longer.

It was probably too early to start hypothesizing as to their purpose, but Quirrel couldn’t help but let his imagination run just a bit. What if he was standing before one of the greatest discoveries in all of Hallownest? If the walls could speak, what kind of ancient secrets would they whisper?

And Quirrel hadn’t even gotten to the heart of the kingdom yet! Perhaps delving deeper into the cavern would reveal more to him. Only one way to find out!  
He turned, took one single step forward, and then froze when he collided with some unseen obstacle.

The creature he’d run into was not a bug, but Quirrel wasn’t sure what else to call it.

The bug-adjacent being stared up at him. They did not look bothered by being (gently) kicked. Their head didn’t reach much higher than Quirrel’s knee, and they wore a mask that seemed to encompass their entire head. Set into the mask were two large eye sockets that reflected no light, nor hinted at what kind of face might lie beneath.

A moment passed, and the bug (Quirrel would just call them that for simplicity’s sake) looked up at him without moving or speaking, mask betraying no emotion or giving any clue at its owner’s disposition.

Ah.

That was probably… fine.

Quirrel took a deep breath. Seeing as the stranger hadn’t attacked so far (and they’d had more than enough opportunity), Quirrel offered a friendly smile.

“Hello there!” he greeted. “How delightful to meet another traveler on these forgotten roads.”

This was met with silence and an unwavering stare.

“You're a short one, but you've a strong look about you.” Though true, Quirrel realized too late that it probably wasn’t the best conversation starter. “I’m Quirrel,” he added swiftly.

Still silence. Did they hear him? They hadn’t moved the entire time he’d been talking.

He nearly started when they tipped their head, considering him. Then that expressionless face turned to the stone egg.

Quirrel followed their gaze and smiled, happy to ramble on about his current object of fascination.

“I have something of an obsession with uncharted places. This ancient kingdom holds many fascinating mysteries, and one of the most intriguing of them is standing right before us.” He raised one hand to gesture, as if the stranger might’ve missed the dark stone structure towering over them. “A great stone egg, lying in the corpse of an ancient kingdom. And this egg...Is it warm? It certainly gives off a unique air.”

That was a bit of an understatement. Even as the two stood there, Quirrel felt the strangely draining aura it gave off. It almost felt like a pressure that closed in on all sides.

“Can it be opened?” Quirrel wondered. “There are strange marks all over it... I do so love a mystery...And who knows what other marvels lie even deeper below us...”

After a pause, he realized he’d been thinking out loud. Oops.

Not that the other bug seemed to mind. They hadn’t really moved, mask still fixated on the egg. Still, Quirrel got the impression that they were listening. They wore a dark cloak that looked tattered around the edges. A nail was strapped to their back, though it looked to be in poor condition. The weapon almost looked too big for its bearer, but Quirrel doubted they had any trouble wielding it. A bug who looked that calm in a place like this was either confident in their skill or a fool, and fools didn’t survive long.

Who was this little bug? Were they really another traveler? An adventurer seeking their fortune?

Despite that being a likely explanation, it didn’t seem to fit. The little bug seemed far too at home, standing there in the shadow of a temple created by a long dead civilization. The barest fog of familiarity (not even the memory of a dream, more like a suggestion of one) flitted across Quirrel’s mind, but it was gone before he could study it.

The silence was stretching out too long.

“Well, I suppose one can only ponder a single mystery for so long,” Quirrel said. “I think I’ve rested here long enough and will continue my journey. Perhaps our paths will cross again in the future? Either way, I wish you safe travels.”

This too received no reaction aside from the two dark eyes turning to the door behind them.

Well, time to go.

Quirrel carefully sidestepped the smaller bug, reluctant to turn his back to them so casually. They’d had plenty of time to attack if that was their intent, but one could never be too careful.

At the mouth of the temple, the air felt just a bit clearer, the temple’s oppressive atmosphere lifting the moment Quirrel stepped back out into the crossroads. Where to go now? He didn’t know the way other than that downward seemed like a logical direction to go when searching for a kingdom deep underground. The path to the left seemed to lead further into the Crossroads. That seemed as promising a start as any.

At that thought, Quirrel glanced back the way he had come. The Temple was fading into the shadows with every step. Was the little bug still inside? What an interesting character.

Quirrel turned away, continued forward, and then jumped back in alarm as he nearly collided with said little bug.

“You startled me, little friend!” he exclaimed.

The bug looked at him with no expression and Quirrel’s hand came to rest on the nail at his hip. They weren’t being threatening and yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be in danger.

The little bug looked in the direction Quirrel had been walking. They pointed.

“Are you headed that way as well?” Quirrel asked. Perhaps their unsettling appearance was less an intimidation tactic and more an unfortunate combination of mask choice, silent movement, and inability to speak.

The little bug nodded once.

“Well, if we are headed in the same direction, we could walk together,” Quirrel suggested. He wasn’t sure if that was the wisest course of action, but the little bug seemed friendly enough and he wouldn’t mind the company. He doubted they’d take him up on the offer anyhow.

Another nod.

Oh.

“Wonderful! Truth be told, I don’t often have travel companions. Exploring these ruins with another bug is exciting.” Quirrel started walking again, eager to get back on the road. Where was the next wonder to behold? The next mystery to unravel?

His new travel companion trotted alongside him. They had to run to keep up, one of Quirrel’s strides equivalent to nearly three of theirs. There was an undeniable mystery to them as well, though Quirrel decided to table that for the time being. Odds were that their paths would diverge soon enough, and he would return to his solitary exploration.

“Ah, I nearly forgot to ask,” Quirrel said. “But what would you like me to call you? You didn’t give me your name –”

The other bug suddenly ran ahead, jumping up onto a rocky outcrop. Their nail was suddenly in their small hand, the damaged blade swiping at a tiktik (which wasn’t much smaller than them).

What looked like bright orange blood dripped from the tiktik’s broken shell and stained the end of the nail. Quirrel’s travel companion continued forward, already fixated on the next. They didn’t look back or wait for Quirrel to catch up.

Perhaps they had a different idea of walking together?

At least Quirrel’s path was clear as he followed their trail of destruction.


	2. Chapter 2

The Crossroads were about as bleak as the King’s Pass had been, and as the knight led Quirrel deeper into the caverns, the scenery only got darker. Every room spoke of a society long dead, and the echoes of Quirrel’s footsteps just reminded them of how alone the two were.

Something screeched nearby, and the knight gripped their nail.

There were also the current residents of the Crossroads, which the knight had deemed to be all terrible.

There were the flying bugs that would follow them everywhere, the crawling ones that ran around what seemed to be every available horizontal surface, and now the wandering husks that would charge right out of the darkness. Everything had been terrible and everything seemed to be out to kill them.

Dirtmouth had been a break from that, but an incredibly short one. The knight had barely taken the time to rest at the lonely bench there before diving down the well.

They’d only just begun to explore the Crossroads when they wandered into the Temple. They’d had no idea such a structure existed, but the moment it came into view, they’d felt drawn to it.

The outside looked to be made of the shell of a massive ancient bug. The top of its head was nearly obscured by the shadows above. Faint light spilled from the doorway.

Earlier, something had silently cried out from within, but now all was silent. Pulses of energy emanated from within, almost as if the ancient bug’s heart continued to beat.

What did it mean? The knight had no idea. They got the same feeling they had earlier, standing at the edge of King’s Pass and staring down into Dirtmouth without seeing the little town, instead thinking of what lay beneath.

And after meeting so many hostile creatures, meeting Quirrel had been an incredible relief. Though his mask and nail had given the knight pause at first, the traveler turned out to be a bug who didn’t try to immediately kill them!

Not only that, but he actually seemed nice. Awkward, and he didn’t seem phased by the Temple’s mysterious air, but nice. The knight’s memories were just a bit hazy (where were they before falling into King’s Pass? Quirrel’s guess was as good as theirs) but they doubted kindness was an abundant resource in the forgotten depths of Hallownest.

It felt like a good idea, following someone else into the darkness, even if just for a little while. The knight had little else to go on aside from their own curiosity and whatever magnet pull seemed to be tugging them toward… whatever was down there in the ruins of Hallownest. Though equally new to the Crossroads and apparently less inclined to violence than the knight, Quirrel seemed a capable enough bug in his own right. There would be no harm in exploring the Crossroads with him.

Though, traveling with Quirrel had its own challenges.

The taller bug kept up a steady pace as he followed the knight deeper into the crossroads, but he kept looking around, marveling at some of the crumbling architecture or other spectacle he managed to pick out of the gloom. Sometimes he talked to himself, wondering at the purpose of such things, or musing at how they might’ve looked before their decay.

His awe was understandable, at least. Though they hardly reflected whatever true splendor Hallownest was rumored to offer, the Crossroads were quite beautiful in their own sad and depressing way. Beautiful, but still terrible. The knight still wasn’t a fan of the many other bugs that tried to dive-bomb their face.

That being said, they ran on ahead, striking down every wandering husk, crawling spiky thing, or flying nuisance that crossed their path. Sure, none of them were particularly challenging to cut down, but they’d rather deal with them sooner than later.

Also, money seemed to fall out whenever a body fell to the knight’s nail. Was that normal? Probably. Best not question it. (But where were they all hiding it?) The knight hadn’t seen any other way to make money and they weren’t about to get a part-time job in Dirtmouth.

With the room clear of enemies and looking just a bit more orange than before, the knight returned to Quirrel’s side.

“You certainly are proficient with that weapon of yours,” the taller bug commented.

The knight knew this and thus decided not to respond. They could hear other creatures moving nearby. More enemies? It felt like for every one they struck down, two more rose to take their place. Wonderful.

“For so long I’ve been drawn here,” Quirrel continued, unphased by the knight’s silence. The two walked (well, the knight still had to jog to keep up) side by side for a moment, a break from archeological surveying and merciless nailwork. “So many tales of wonder and horror. No longer could I resist. I just had to see it myself.

“And what a time I chose to arrive! This dead world has sprung to life. The creatures are riled up and the earth rumbles. The air is thick. I wonder what could have brought it all about?” When the knight glanced up (it really was a chore, trying to look Quirrel in the eyes. He’s too damn tall) Quirrel was watching one of the crawling bugs scuttle in circles around a sharp-edged rock. It paid them no mind.

He was certainly right. The knight didn’t think they’d had many expectations for their journey into Hallownest, and yet, the state of the Crossroads was somehow both surprising and exactly as expected. The air was cold and tinted with sickness, filled with the sounds of shuffling and crawling and buzzing punctuated by Quirrel’s quiet footsteps, muted as the two made their way downward. The Crossroads were full of movement but not life, and the knight didn’t know what to do about it.

“You seem completely at home in all this darkness,” Quirrel said, getting the knight’s attention again. “Does the dark not bother you? It doesn’t usually perturb me so, but I must admit, there is an undeniable air of foreboding here.”

No, the dark did not bother them. Neither did the cold or damp or the strange stickiness to the air. Should it? The knight hadn’t really considered it until Quirrel spoke.

But what of Quirrel himself? He seemed just as comfortable there, wandering the forgotten paths. The mask he wore on top of his head gleamed white like bone and the nail at his hip glinted in the dim light. The knight hadn’t seen him use it yet, but they didn’t doubt that he could.

Something moved in the dark, and the air was filled with the buzzing sound of those flying bugs, the ones that, once they caught the knight’s scent, would doggedly pursue them until something very deterring (like a nail) came between the two.

“Oh, look there!” Quirrel exclaimed, once again reclaiming the knight’s attention. “A way down.”

He was gesturing to what looked like a gate. However, instead of leading to some winding path, it bracketed what looked to be a sheer drop into darkness. The knight couldn’t see the bottom from where they stood, and from the way he considered the path before him, Quirrel couldn’t either.

“Hm,” the taller bug hummed, head tilted as he peered into the shadows. “I wonder if there used to be more to this path. The engravings on this gate seem far too intricate for a simple drop. Had there been a simple lift here before?”

While he considered the way forward, the knight considered the bugs still flying somewhere above their head. Yeah, those had to be dealt with.

The knight jumped up onto a larger rock and then to the top of the gate. Two buzzing flyers squawked when the knight drew close. They also squawked when the knight’s nail sliced through both air and carapace.

Orange dripped from the bent metal. At least the buzzing stopped.

In its absence, the knight realized they could hear… crying?

There was a ledge just a bit higher up and then another room beyond. It sounded like the crying was coming from there. Should they do something about that? Probably.

A glance below showed that Quirrel was still very much distracted by the gate.

Oh well. With any luck, this wouldn’t take long.

The knight jumped up onto the ledge and followed the sound.

There were what looked like ancient weapons set on racks on one side of the room. The crying was coming from deeper within, behind a big rusted statue. What was happening? The Crossroads were certainly a dangerous place, but the knight felt like it was a bad idea to sit and cry so loudly about it.

The knight had hardly taken a step toward the noise when the ground shook. There was a creak of ancient metal and the scrape of a shell that hadn’t moved in an age. A massive club made from the tooth of some bigger monster slammed down, sending the knight stumbling back, hand fumbling for their nail. They managed to arm and right themself just as the massive armored husk stomped forward for another attack.

Not a statue! Not a statue!

The knight managed to jump out of the way when the club came down the second time. Their own nail swiped outward at rusted armor and thick chitin, leaving bright lines of orange in its wake.

_Wham_!

The knight staggered as the next strike sent them flying. They landed heavily, dust flying up when they hit the ground. Well, that hurt. More than that, they also felt something else, something like a fracturing. Something inside suddenly felt weaker, unstable.

Their nail flashed again, opening more seams of orange. Why orange? The knight could feel soul also spill into the air and splattering against their blade, but shouldn’t that be all there is? Or did Hallownest bugs just bleed orange?

Another strike with the club and another desperate leap out of the way. This husk, though much bigger, seemed to be the exact same as the smaller husks that had fallen to the knight’s nail. But why did this one have a weapon? Why did it know how to use it?? How did it get so damn big???

The knight felt the entire thing was very unfair.

A shockwave shuddered through the ground, sending them stumbling again before they could jump aside.

That too, felt very unfair.

They managed to dodge the next strike of the club and then lunge forward, nail driving forward into one of the bright gashes. The blade, while bent and dull, struck true, and the larger bug fell in a cloud of sickly sweet orange.

The knight took a moment to look over their work. They were really starting to resent the color orange, and to be perfectly honest, they felt it was far too early in the journey for such a grudge.

It took another moment to focus long enough to heal. The sudden fragile feeling in their being faded and the world looked just a bit darker. Somehow that was a good thing.

Beyond the husk’s corpse, the crying hadn’t ceased. Little whimpering sobs still emanated from the back of the room.

When the knight drew closer, they realized it was a grub. A very sad looking grub who was trapped in a bubble of glass.

Why?

The grub brightened when it saw the knight, and sobs quickly turned into a trill of delight.

Why was it encased in glass? It was a baby! What kind of terrible creature stuck babies in jars?

Well, the knight had certainly put too much effort into getting there to just ignore the poor thing. The glass shattered under a light strike of their nail, and glittering shards fell all around the freed grub’s stumpy little feet. It made a joyful sound and promptly dove headfirst into the ground. Its fat little (‘little’ might not be the right word as the grub was bigger than the knight by a fair margin) body wiggled for a moment before disappearing into the newly made tunnel.

How… did it burrow that quickly into solid rock?

The knight glanced back the way they’d come. Best not question it. They’d done a good thing (they hoped) and Quirrel might’ve mistaken their absence as a desire to part ways and then gone ahead without them. Time to head back.

Quirrel was still there, right where they’d left him, and the knight wasn’t sure whether they were more amused or annoyed about that. Did he even notice them leave?

“This truly is an interesting place,” Quirrel said quietly as the knight joined him beside the gate. He sounded very far away, as if he were talking about somewhere else, or maybe _to_ someone else. He only looked mildly startled when he looked down and took in the knight’s appearance.

They stared back at him, daring him to comment on the newly acquired dirt smudges and smears of orange on their mask and cape.

Quirrel’s gaze went to the nail strapped to the knight’s back. “To persevere in this ruin, that old nail alone just won't be enough.”

Was he insulting them?

“Though that's no problem!” Quirrel continued, chipper as ever. “One only has to look around. Plenty have come before us and most have met their grisly end, many more equipped than you and I. I'm sure they wouldn't mind were a fellow explorer to relieve them of their tools.” He paused, his expression shifting again. He looked very much like he was talking about something else entirely when he added “It's a kindness really. The dead shouldn't be burdened with such things.”

Before the knight could question it, Quirrel nodded to the gate. “Shall we go on ahead? You move so quickly, I hope I’m not boring you. Please, do not let me hold you back from your journey here.”

The knight just shook their head. Despite the many detours, they weren’t quite ready to part ways just yet.

With nothing left to say on the subject, they jumped down through the gate and into the darkness below.


	3. Chapter 3

The way continued downward.

Quirrel’s small companion leapt down with little hesitation, nail flashing as new enemies flocked toward the travelers.

Quirrel followed with just a bit more caution, leaving the little one to clear the path ahead. While their small stature had him a bit concerned at first, they’d proven themself to be more than proficient with a nail, even one in such a poor state as theirs. He hadn’t commented on it, but Quirrel hadn’t missed the newly acquired orange stains on their cloak.

The way was steep and while he was more than capable of the climb, Quirrel didn’t fancy jumping recklessly and risk landing wrong. Even the simplest of injuries could prove fatal when traveling in such an area, and he didn’t fully trust his little companion not to simply leave if he were to be incapacitated.

Plus, they were more than happy to run ahead, nail swinging at anything that moved too close.

He found it hard to begrudge their enthusiasm even if he himself did not share it. These infected bugs were either already dead or insane from whatever was infecting them. Cutting them down was most likely more a mercy than Quirrel’s decision to leave them be.

Still, it was more than a little disconcerting to look up from the gate and see his little friend covered in orange.

They were attempting to wipe some of said orange off their mask when Quirrel joined them at the bottom of the climb. The little bug didn’t look up but pointed wordlessly to the right.

There was a large archway framed by crumbling pillars. Further in, it looked like the space widened into what might have been a grand hall. A central space in the center of the Crossroads, where travelers from all places might pass through either to or from the kingdom below.

Quirrel could almost see it, could almost hear the bustle of bugs coming and going, conversations merging into a murmured cacophony.

His wandering little friend did not wait for his reply as they hopped across the broken ledge and headed for the archway. As usual, their mask betrayed no emotion, but the way they held themself had purpose.

A broken signpost, image smeared and rusted over nearly to the point of being unrecognizable, caught Quirrel’s eye. It lay close to the archway and pointed downward, where the rocky slope continued to give way. Further down, there was another archway framed by pillars, this one smaller, simpler, but more brightly lit.

Quirrel had no doubt that he’d never been there before, but something about the sign, the archway, and the way the light spilled from the space beyond, all felt eerily familiar. Perhaps he’d seen something similar before? He’d certainly seen his fair share of crossroads, and they all held some resemblance to each other.

“Ah, little friend,” Quirrel called, looking to where the smaller traveler had nearly rounded the corner of the upper archway.

They paused, turning to look at him.

“If your heart is set on exploring that direction, I’m afraid our paths must split here,” Quirrel told them. He nodded down to his own destination. “I can’t explain why, but I believe my own path will continue further down.”

The wanderer took a few steps back toward him, just enough for them to see around one of the pillars and peer down at the second archway Quirrel had pointed out.

“You are more than welcome to continue accompanying me, however,” Quirrel added.

They seemed to consider it for a moment. Then they stepped off the ledge and landed with a dull thud in front of the other archway. Large dark eyes looked back up at Quirrel for a moment before the other bug darted inside.

Well, they were certainly… efficient.

Quirrel wasn’t far behind, picking his way easily down the slope. The weathered stone was smooth on the surface, worn down by the ages. It had crumbled in places and cracked in others, offering enough footholds to make the journey relatively easy.

Below, the archway lead into another large space. The ceiling arced so high that the dim light of ancient lumifly lanterns (how were they still lit?) couldn’t reach. Crumbling columns still stood tall and proud, framing cracked walkways and deeper roads.

A massive gate sat at the end, rusted bars blocking off a tunnel that led into darkness.

The little masked wanderer was standing beside a bench, head tilted as dark eyes took in their surroundings. Their expression remained unchanged, of course, but Quirrel thought he saw just a hint of awe in the way they slowly looked around.

“I believe we’re standing in one of the old stagway stations,” he said, joining the other bug at the bench. He sank down onto it gratefully; while the going hadn’t quite been hard yet, he wasn’t about to pass up a chance to rest in a relatively safe place.

And what a place it was! Oh, he could almost imagine what the station looked like when it had been in use. Such a collection of endless activity, the gateway to countless adventures. How many bugs had sat where he was sitting, waiting for their stag to arrive and carry them off into the kingdom?

His travel companion hopped up onto the bench beside him, their legs so short that their feet dangled over the side. Large black eyes turned to Quirrel almost expectantly.

“These stations were used as a way of travel,” Quirrel explained, gesturing at the roads that stretched from the end tunnel. “Massive stag beetles carried smaller bugs on their back and ran through a complex network of tunnels that covered the entire kingdom. You can see the gate to this one there. Bugs from all corners of Hallownest used these stations to get from place to place. Such wonderful hubs of adventure!”

The little wanderer seemed to consider this. Then they hopped down off the bench and headed for the gate.

“It seems they blocked off the tunnels when the stagways shut down,” Quirrel commented, watching the smaller bug explore. “A shame really. I would love to follow one of those tunnels and see where it might lead me. Then again, I do enjoy walking out here in the ruins. I’m sure there’s far more to see.”

The wanderer didn’t respond. After poking at the gate a few times with their nail (the metal clanged loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls), they hopped back up onto the ledge and stared intently at a dented metal structure that stood close to the lowered road. They stared at it for a long moment before looking to Quirrel and pointing.

“Find something, did you?” Quirrel asked, unable to contain a smile. It was nice to see them curious about something that didn’t involve swinging a nail around.

They waved one hand urgently and then pointed again, indicating the structure before them.

“Alright, let me take a look!” Quirrel jumped back to his feet and joined his little travel companion.

They continued to point, dark eyes turned upward to stare at him imploringly.

Now that he was looking at the metal structure more closely, Quirrel realized it was some kind of toll machine. There was a picture of a stag on it, and a slot for money. The faded numbers above marked the toll as 50 geo.

“I assume this was used to summon the stags,” Quirrel said thoughtfully. “One must have paid a small fee to travel.”

His companion continued to point.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think it works anymore,” Quirrel continued. “The metal is very rusted, and the mechanisms have surely ceased to function long before we discovered this place. I do wonder though…”

Quirrel could feel his companion’s eyes boring holes into him as he fished for some change. He didn’t really keep money on him seeing as funds tended to funnel directly into supplies. Still, the few husks he’d struck down earlier had spit out a few geo, and he miraculously had enough to cover the fee.

The geo clanged hollowly as they were fed into the slot. Where did they go? Most likely some kind of reservoir below, where they could later be collected and sent back to the capitol. Was there a room below them for this purpose?

“I suppose that was probably a waste of perfectly spendable geo,” Quirrel chuckled sheepishly. He glanced down to his masked companion. “Oh well. There aren’t really any shops to spend money at anyhow –”

He was cut off by the ground shaking.

Startled, both bugs jumped back as the massive gate sank slowly into the ground, rusted metal screeching in protest as it disappeared into a crevice in the rock.

Suddenly, the tunnel was clear.

“Incredible,” Quirrel said quietly. “To think it would still work after all this time!”

The little traveler returned to where they’d been standing before. The toll machine was gone, having sunk into the ground as the gate did. In its place was a brass bell attached to a stand.

“Oh,” Quirrel said. “Perhaps I was wrong before. I suppose the bell was used to summon a stag while the toll was –”

_Clang!_

The little bug swatted at the bell with their nail.

Quirrel stared at them. By some miracle of engineering, ancient machinery still functioned, and the little wanderer’s first instinct was to smack it with their nail.

_Clang!_

And they did it again.

_Clang!_

“I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish by doing that,” Quirrel told them, wincing as they raised their nail to strike again.

They paused, as if considering it, and then brought their nail down against the scratched bell.

_Clang!_

Before Quirrel could speak more on the subject (Did they just enjoy the sound?) the ground shook again. This time, it felt less like a moving structure and more like the thunder of heavy feet running very fast.

Quirrel’s hand went to his nail.

A massive stag beetle came barreling out of the gate, dust flying into the air as he skidded to a halt. The old stag seemed very confused, looking around as if he’d been recently woken from a dream. His face lit up when he spied Quirrel and the little wanderer standing beside the track.

“Greetings!” he said, voice rough and warm. “It's been an age since I last heard the ringing of a station bell. It echoed down the stagways and called me to you.”

“Incredible!” Quirrel exclaimed. “After all this time… I never thought there might still be stags running these tunnels.”

“It has been a very long time,” the old stag agreed solemnly. “The stations had long since emptied and the tunnels are quiet.” He stared out at the crumbling pillars. “I've grown stiff and tired over these many years and I've forgotten much, but the sound of the bell will always call me back.”

“You remember when the stagways were still in use!” Quirrel gasped.

From the edge of the platform, the little masked traveler waved one hand.

Quirrel wasn’t sure what they were trying to say, but the old stag seemed delighted.

“These stagways stretch the depths of Hallownest,” the stag said. “If you want to travel them, hail me from the platform. I will take you where you need to go.”

“Are you wanting to go somewhere?” Quirrel asked, looking to his masked companion.

They nodded once.

While he was still eager to continue exploring on his own two feet, Quirrel found it hard to resist the opportunity to make use of one of the ancient stagways and perhaps learn more from the living relic that traveled them. “Where to?”

A map was carved into the stone beside the tunnel gateway, and the little traveler pointed out the station at the top.

“I have forgotten much,” the old stag said again. “But I do recall how to find that station as it is so close. Climb aboard, little bugs, and I will take you there without delay!”

Quirrel’s little companion wasted no time in doing so, leaping up onto the ornate saddle astride the stag’s back. Quirrel was just a step behind.

He’d had just enough time to settle into the dusty seat before the old stag took off into the tunnel, moving so fast that Quirrel found himself clutching both his nail and his mask lest they fly off into the darkness.

“It has been such a long time since I last ran with passengers through these tunnels!” The old stag exclaimed, hardly seeming out of breath even as he barreled forward into the darkness. “It was a long time ago, but I remember when these highways and crossroads pulsed with life. These are the paths I first carried passengers through when I was young.”

After what felt like hardly a moment of travel, the old stag slid to a halt in what seemed to be another stagway station, though this one much smaller and less ornate than the one before.

“Those travelers are long gone, yet still I remain.” The old stag continued, almost as if he were talking more to himself than his passengers. “Now it seems it is just us and the furtive creatures all scratching and squirming all around the kingdom.”

“That may be so,” Quirrel said as he leapt to the ground. “but there is something to be said for living so long and being able to recall life before the kingdom’s fall. My companion and I are certainly grateful to know that one such as yourself still travels through the ruins.”

Said travel companion gave a fullbody nod, nearly a bow, in agreement.

“It warms my heart to hear you say that,” the old stag said. He then looked around, squinting into the darkness. Dust covered every surface that Quirrel could see, and the air was stale and free from the strange sweetness that lingered further below ground. “This place,” the old stag said slowly. “We are near the surface, I believe? There is a town here. You should take the opportunity to rest, especially if you intend to return belowground. This place was once full of travelers coming and going. It seems much quieter now.”

“Indeed,” Quirrel said. “If we are where you say, I believe we’re in Dirtmouth. I visited briefly on my way down into Hallownest.” He wasn’t sure if he should comment on its quietness.

Beside him, the little masked bug gave a wave of farewell before turning and stepping further into the station.

“Thank you for the lift,” Quirrel said, looking to the old stag. “I’m sure we will be in need of your service again in the future.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” the old stag told him.

The small bug’s footsteps were impossible to trace even in the silence of the abandoned stagway station, but their pale mask stood out in the dim light that filtered down from somewhere above. Quirrel followed them further into the dusty shadows, pausing when the two stepped into a metal lift and the floor began to rise beneath them.

“I didn’t realize there was a stagway station here,” Quirrel said as ancient gears turned and the lift rocked ominously beneath his feet. In his eagerness to explore Hallownest, perhaps he had moved too quickly through the little town. Was there anything else he’d missed?

The little bug beside him didn’t respond, their mask tilted up to where the light grew faintly stronger.

The lift creaked to a halt and Quirrel and his silent companion stepped off into a similarly dusty and deserted room. A billboard hung on a wall, displaying the crumbling remains of ads placed long ago. A single door lay just beyond, though it was closed.

When Quirrel tried to open it, it remained shut tight, ancient lock holding strong.

_Clang_!

Metal screeched and the door flew open, cold air flooding into the space and displacing the ancient dust.

Quirrel jumped and turned to see the little bug standing next to a lever opposite to the door. Their nail was out and poised to strike the lever again, though they lowered it when they realized the door was open.

They had hands… The lever was right next to them…

Quirrel decided not to comment on it.

Outside, Dirtmouth was exactly as Quirrel had last seen it. The door he and his little friend stepped out of sat near the bench. Elderbug seemed pleasantly surprised to see them.

“I suppose we’re back where we began,” Quirrel commented as he waved to the old bug.

The masked bug beside him didn’t respond, though they were looking at him.

What now? There was still an entire kingdom to explore. Quirrel felt it was a bit rude to return to the stagway station and ask to be taken back underground so soon after departing, but the well wasn’t far off. He could retrace his steps from earlier and see about the hall that lay above the Crossroads’ stagway station. Or he could go the other way offered to him at the bottom of the well. Truly, there were so many ways he could go!

And what of the little bug who was currently making a beeline for the bench? Did they have a destination in mind, or were they similarly exploring wherever their feet would take them?

As Quirrel hesitated, Elderbug gave a warm greeting and the little bug patted the space on the bench beside them, inviting him to sit.

Chuckling to himself, Quirrel decided to accept. In the meantime, a quick rest wouldn’t hurt. Whatever came next would be decided then.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I exhausted Quirrel's canon dialogue by now. I took almost all of Cornifer's dialogue from the game, so again, if it sounds familiar, there's a reason.

The knight was happy to continue following Quirrel even as he led down a different path after diving back down the well. His reasoning was that he’d gone a fair distance down one path and still hadn’t seen the cartographer that was supposedly mapping away down in the Crossroads, so perhaps he should try the other direction.

This was logical enough, and it’s not like the knight had any better ideas. Sure, they wanted to see what was in that room above the stagway station, but it’s not like it was going anywhere, and a map would only make it easier to find in the long run.

In the meantime, they found themself back to carving a bloody path through the disturbingly aggressive bugs that resided in the Crossroads.

The first stretch of travel went without much to comment on. Quirrel seemed interested in the elevated structures that hung all throughout one of the larger caverns, but the knight was more interested in the several passageways that led off of the main chamber.

For example, one of the first rooms they wandered into held a large expanse of… rocks with holes in them?

They sat in a pile, stacked almost all the way to the ceiling. At the top, an old grub sat in one of the hollowed stones and waved enthusiastically.

“Hello there!” Quirrel said, waving back.

Unsure of what else to do, the knight waved too.

“I do hope we’re not intruding,” Quirrel continued even when the old grub didn’t respond other than to continue waving. “We’re travelers and were just exploring the crossroads.”

The knight stepped closer, head tilted as they considered their surroundings. This was a weird place.

A shrill noise of joy startled them from their observations and the knight looked up to see the little grub they’d saved earlier. It too was sitting in one of the hollowed out stones.

They offered a wave and the little grub swayed happily.

“Oh!” Quirrel said, looking to where the knight stood. “Do you know each other?”

Again, the knight wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so they didn’t.

From above, the old grub waved again and called out. When he got the little knight’s attention, he threw something into the air.

The knight jumped back, nail in hand.

As it turned out, what rained down and clattered to the ground was not an attack. It was money. Geo was raining down from the sky.

“I’m going to take that as you having met before,” Quirrel said.

The knight was busy scooping up geo and sticking it into their cloak. Truly, it wasn’t much, but they weren’t about to turn down free money. Not that they’d been looking for a reward when they’d saved the baby grub, but they appreciated papa grub’s gratitude.

The knight’s gaze went to the many rocks in the distance. Was each a home for a baby grub? There were so many! Were more trapped in jars? Who was going around sticking so many baby bugs into jars?

And more importantly, was papa grub willing to throw more geo at the knight if they rescued more?

When the geo was stowed away, papa grub seemed to lose interest in the two travelers.

“Ah,” Quirrel said. He glanced at the knight. “Shall we be going?”

The little knight nodded, if just because the baby grub’s happy trilling was beginning to give them a headache.

Outside, the flying bugs continued to meander lazily through the air. None seemed to have any form of direction, making them easy to dodge as the knight followed Quirrel down.

Two more side tunnels led off into longer passages, which the two decided to leave alone for the moment. It was harder to get lost if you only went straight.

Another tunnel led down a similarly long passage, though the knight found themself wandering a bit further in. There was something different here.

Everywhere they’d seen of the crossroads looked roughly the same aside from the Temple. Here, plants grew between cracks in the rock and moss crept up the walls. The air felt lighter somehow, less thick with whatever sweet fog filled the rest of the Crossroads.

“The Pilgrim’s Way,” Quirrel said. When the knight looked up to him, he was reading a large sign stationed near the entrance. “Travelers of Hallownest, descend through verdant wilds and fungal groves to the city at this kingdom’s heart. There, all wishes shall be granted, all truths revealed.” He turned and smiled down at the knight. “Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? There’s so much more here to explore than what we’ve seen so far.”

The knight thought that the kingdom sounded incredibly full of itself. ‘all wishes granted, all truths revealed’? That was a lot to promise.

However, they did agree that it sounded exciting. At the very least, they were eager to explore an area with more to look at than crumbling rock and ancient machinery.

“This way seems to lead to a much more vibrant place than the Crossroads,” Quirrel commented. “The plants here are full and green; I wonder what sustains them? As we’re underground, there is little light aside from that of the lumiflies. Perhaps there is something else keeping the plants alive…”

He trailed off, apparently lost in thought.

The knight gave him a moment to continue, but Quirrel seemed to be completely lost in his head, looking up at a large stone archway that marked the entrance to whichever verdant wilds and fungal groves the sign spoke of.

The knight decided to run ahead a bit. Their search for the map maker was still fresh in their mind (With so few landmarks in the Crossroads, they were beginning to realize how badly they’d need a map.) but the idea of seeing something new pushed the thought to the back of their mind.

They were stopped short when a glob of burning orange _something_ flew through the air and landed at their feet with a disgusting squish.

The knight startled, jumping back as another landed right where they’d been standing hardly a moment before.

Up ahead, a large bug blocked the path. It was different from the ones they’d seen, thick shell plating its body. Its eyes burned orange as it threw its head back and spat more… acid? It looked like acid.

Behind them, Quirrel exclaimed something (They didn’t hear what) as the knight ducked under the next volley of acid and ran forward, nail in hand. When they were close enough, they struck with all the force they could put behind the blade.

_Clang_!

The bug ducked behind armored arms and the knight’s nail bounced off without leaving even a scratch.

Well, that wasn’t ideal.

The knight stumbled back and stared at the bug in confusion when it didn’t uncurl from its protective position.

“Many of the bugs here have been so aggressive,” Quirrel remarked. He stood back where the knight had first been and did not seem inclined to move any closer. “Could it be the air? The atmosphere feels clearer here, but it seems the creatures beyond might not have been spared. It makes me wonder how long you and I can remain here without becoming affected as well.”

The knight stared at him. Even if they could speak, they had no words for how concerning that thought was.

Even more concerning, the lack of unease the idea seemed to cause Quirrel.

“If the way is blocked, perhaps we should come back later,” he continued. “I doubt either of our weapons will pierce that shell.”

The knight pointed at the armored bug with their nail. It was still curled up protectively, no longer spitting acid. Couldn’t they just sneak past?

Only one way to find out!

“Wait—!” Quirrel exclaimed, but the knight had already jumped.

The bug wasn’t that big; they’d cleared larger obstacles. Most other obstacles, however, did not suddenly uncurl and bat them out of the air.

The ground was unforgivingly hard when the knight fell flat on their back hard enough for their mask to bounce off the stone.

Ow.

That damaged, fractured feeling was back, and the knight stumbled when trying to scramble to their feet.

They managed to stand and leap backwards just as another volley of glowing orange acid was flung into the air and rained down onto the stone.

“If you wish to try again, I won’t stop you,” Quirrel said, calm as ever. He hadn’t moved aside from taking a single step back as acid rained down. “But personally, I would not recommend it.”

Yeah, no kidding.

The knight gave a reluctant nod.

“Perhaps it will have moved on if we come back later,” Quirrel suggested again. He’d already turned and was heading back the way they had come.

That made sense, and the knight recalled the hall in the Crossroads they still wanted to explore. Still, they leveled the armored bug with a furious stare and pointed their nail at it. They would return, and next time, they would not be prevented from moving forward.

The armored bug did not react, no longer spitting acid now that the knight was backing away. Still, they liked to think it looked just a bit intimidated.

Further down, the outside cavern lead into another, darker space. When the knight jumped down the short drop, they nearly fell when the ground slipped out from under them.

“Careful there!” Quirrel said as he landed beside them. “Oh! Do you hear that humming?”

The knight stared down at the piece of parchment they’d slipped on while Quirrel leaped down ahead. Someone was singing down there, the remarkably cheerful tune echoing along the stone walls. The further down the knight went, the more parchment littered the ground.

“Hello!” Quirrel was saying when the knight joined him below. They stood on a relatively sheltered shelf of stone. Parchment was scattered all along the ground and in the center of the mess was a cheerful looking bug, drawing away with a quill in his hand.

“You must be the cartographer I’ve heard about,” Quirrel continued when the other bug didn’t respond.

“Hmm?” The map maker looked up. He wore a bag that was overflowing with rolled up pieces of parchment (the source of the trail leading from above) and had round glasses that glinted in the dim light. His already happy expression brightened even more when he looked up and noticed the two travelers.

“Ah, hello there,” he said. “Come down to explore these beautiful old ruins?”

“We have, indeed!” Quirrel replied. “The Crossroads lay just on the outskirts of the kingdom, but even here, the ruins have been such a wonder to wander through.”

“I’ve a fondness for exploring myself. Getting lost and finding your way again is a pleasure like no other. We’re exquisitely lucky to have the chance to become lost in such a place!”

“I certainly agree.”

The knight didn’t, though they could appreciate the enthusiasm. Personally, they liked knowing how to get back to the bench in Dirtmouth. Or the Stagway Station. Or that path full of plants, actually.

The map maker noticed them staring intently at a partially unrolled scroll of parchment. “I’m a cartographer by trade, and I’m working on mapping this area right now. Would you like to buy a copy of my work so far?”

“Truthfully, I was more interested in hearing another’s thoughts on this wonderful kingdom,” Quirrel admitted. “I know a fair bit about the ruins in which we stand, but I believe my knowledge is incomplete. I would love to learn more about the area if you are willing to share. That, and I’m afraid I don’t have the geo at the moment.”

“Quite understandable,” the cartographer said, nodding thoughtfully. “Exploring without a map, finding your own way through unknown caverns… All very nourishing for the soul.”

The knight thought that was well and good, but they wanted that map and did have geo to spend. Before the taller explorers could continue their conversation, the knight reached within their cloak, grabbed a random handful of geo, and held it out to the cartographer. They pointed to the half-finished map on the ground.

“Yes, this one is for 30 geo,” the cartographer said, accepting the geo and counting it out. “I believe you are five short.”

The knight pulled out more geo. They hadn’t stopped to count it yet, but they had a fair amount from all the fighting they’d been doing.

“Ah, very good.” The cartographer stowed the geo and handed over the map. “I've tried to fill out as much as I can, but every map is a work in progress...”

The knight unrolled it more and looked down, trying to retrace their own steps and figure out where they were in relation to everywhere else. It really was incomplete, and they were fairly certain that they’d already traveled most of it.

While they puzzled over exactly how lost they were, the cartographer continued to speak. “Oh, by the way, I haven't introduced myself have I? Yes, I should apologise for that. When you spend a lot of time by yourself, with just your own thoughts, you forget the niceties of conversation.

“My name is Cornifer, and I've always loved exploring the world. Why, when I was first hatched, I wandered off immediately, leaving my brothers and sisters and poor mother behind! ... That's why as soon as I could I moved to Dirtmouth with my wife. A huge, unending Kingdom to explore right on our doorstep. Who could resist?”

“Well met, friend!” Quirrel told him. “I’m Quirrel, and my companion here is…” he glanced down and the knight paused in their study of the map. “Actually, you never did tell me your name.”

They hadn’t told him anything, actually. Being unable to speak kept getting in the way.

Also, they didn’t really have a name, and if they did, they couldn’t remember what it was.

Unable to explain all this, they just shrugged.

“Alright,” Quirrel said. He gestured vaguely at them. “We met in the Temple above and, as our paths seem to be leading in the same direction, we’ve been exploring the ruins together.”

The knight nodded and looked back down at the map. They wondered if Cornifer would sell them a quill too. They really needed to label all this.

“As for your earlier request,” Cornifer said, looking back to Quirrel. “I’m afraid I know very little about the kingdom aside from what I’ve seen, and so far, I haven’t seen all that much! I do wonder about the bugs that have come before us, back during the kingdom’s prime. Just imagine how they must have looked during the kingdom's height, thick with traffic and bustling with life! I wish I could have seen it...”

“I as well,” Quirrel said, nodding slowly.

Not that they weren’t enjoying the conversation taking place over their head (they decisively liked Cornifer. He was a happy thing in an otherwise bleak area, and they knew better than to take that for granted), but the knight was more concerned about fixing the map so they could actually use it. They patted said map until they got the cartographer’s attention again. When they had it, they mimed writing.

“If you'd like to fill out some of the map yourself,” Cornifer said. “You can purchase some mapping supplies from my wife up in Dirtmouth. We've set up a little store to help make ends meet. A map can be a useful thing, but it alone won't show you where you are. If you've not the head for directions, I also suggest purchasing a compass.”

That sounded like a very good thing too. The knight nodded gratefully.

“I saw the shop when I first arrived in Dirtmouth,” Quirrel said. “looked to be a very respectable establishment.”

Now that they thought about it, the knight had seen it too. It had been closed.

“My wife, Iselda, is just now opening our little shop, selling all sorts of useful things to wanderers like yourself. She'll even sell some of my old maps from time to time. I pop back to see her whenever I finish mapping an area. She's always so excited to see me.”

“Perhaps you should pay her a visit?” Quirrel suggested, looking back to the knight. “A drawn map is well and good, but the ability to add to it can be very useful.”

The knight tilted their head. He’d said “you” and not “we”. They held up the map and pointed between it and Quirrel. They had more geo if he wanted one too.

“Do I want a map?” Quirrel asked.

The knight nodded. They reached within their cloak and pulled out more geo. They really needed to count that before they made a habit of offering to pay for things. In this case, the map was cheap and Quirrel was nice, so it was okay.

“That’s very kind of you,” Quirrel told them. “But no. As much as I’d like to support the local businesses, I tend not to use maps in my travels.”

The knight shrugged and put the geo away. This revelation did not surprise them.

Cornifer nodded, not looking disappointed in the slightest. “I'll let you return to your travels. With a little luck, we'll meet again. Be safe and farewell!”

“Farewell and safe travels to you as well,” Quirrel said cheerfully.

The knight stuffed the map into their cloak and followed when he turned and headed back into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Quirrel had initially intended to part ways with his little companion, as he didn’t intend on returning to Dirtmouth so soon. However, he figured the stop wouldn’t take long and, even if they didn’t speak, he was still enjoying exploring with another bug. He knew better than to get too attached, but for the moment, it was nice to have someone around to listen to him ramble on about the things that interested him.

The two walked back to Dirtmouth, moving quicker than they had before as they now knew the way.

Aboveground, Cornifer and Iselda’s shop was open, warm light spilling from the open door. Iselda herself seemed nice, though perhaps not as enthusiastic about Cornifer’s traveling as he’d suggested. The sight of the small masked bug opening their cloak and dropping over three hundred geo seemed to brighten her mood a bit.

The old stag seemed happy to carry Quirrel and his small friend back down to the Crossroads despite having transported them hardly a few hours earlier. He bid them a warm farewell when the two passed back through the Crossroads station and then out into the caverns.

The little masked bug looked up to the hall they’d been intent on exploring earlier.

It turned out to be a storeroom of sorts. Or, well, what was left of one. The crumbling walls were bare, having long since been pillaged by adventurers and looters alike.

It was still a rather impressive space, cavern stretching out into the darkness, lit dimly by the lumifly lanterns.

Quirrel walked slowly, staring up at the ancient hall. Like the rest of the Crossroads, the abandoned storeroom held a sort of lonely sadness along with its aging splendor. What more beauty and sadness would he find closer to the heart of the kingdom?

He had no idea, but his heart told him there would be plenty of both.

Quirrel’s small companion ran on ahead, swatting at the few wandering husks that had wandered into the space. There were fewer inside than back out in the Crossroads, though there was nothing barring the door.

The husks had stayed away from the Stagway Station below, as well as the Temple above. Was there a reason?

Well, avoiding the Temple made sense, and perhaps the Station was left alone due to the Old Stag who still wandered the tunnels.

Up ahead, the stone floor gleamed orange and the little masked bug was climbing up to a second level.

Quirrel left them to explore. His focus lay more on the narrow passageway at the other side of the storeroom. There was a hot spring somewhere around there. A hot spring and something else.

But how did he know that?

Quirrel had long since stopped asking himself that. Thinking in circles, chasing memories that turned to mist the second he grasped hold of them never led to anything but frustration. And, more often than not, a headache.

Something rumbled overhead. The entire room shook with the thundering impact of something very heavy landing on the upper level. Dust and stone fell down from the ceiling, clattering against the stone floor below.

A furious roar shook the cavern.

Well, that sounded exciting.

The roars and shaking continued as Quirrel darted to where he’d seen his little friend climb up. The stairs had crumbled away to rubble, but the walls remained jagged enough for one to jump from point to point with little difficulty.

The constant shaking didn’t help, though.

Quirrel leaped up to where his little friend was fighting a massive bug in armor.

So much smaller than their opponent, the smaller bug ran around and darted beneath the other, their nail clanging loudly whenever they struck. Their dull blade didn’t seem to do any damage, bouncing harmlessly off the gleaming armor.

That armor… Was it familiar? Quirrel found himself stopped in his tracks, considering the larger bug as it lumbered across the space, swinging a heavy looking mace.

He swore he’d never seen it before in his life, nor seen a set of armor that truly resembled it, but it still felt so familiar.

Familiar, but wrong. It was like finding a missing puzzle piece and then realizing it didn’t quite fit the picture.

The ground shook again when the larger bug struck the ground. Quirrel’s small friend jumped out of the way, but the resounding shockwave sent Quirrel stumbling to the ground.

Right. He could ponder whatever conundrum his hazy mind came up with later. At the moment, he should probably do something.

Within the span of a heartbeat, Quirrel was back on his feet and darting over to where the smaller bug dove right beneath their larger opponent’s feet. Their nail slashed, hardly denting the metal armor, but sending its wearer staggering off balance.

Despite being much sharper, Quirrel knew even his blade wouldn’t pierce such well-made armor. However, his nail was narrow enough to fit between one of the gaps.

The armored bug stumbled, roaring in fury. Before it could right itself, Quirrel jumped up and drove his nail into the seam where the helmet met the breastplate.

Orange sprayed from the wound and Quirrel jumped clear as the larger bug toppled.

The armor rang hollowly when it struck the ground. The impact sent the helmet spinning off into an unseen corner. The bug within the armor was also thrown clear, body bouncing a bit before rolling to a stop just a few paces away.

A maggot? That was certainly surprising. It didn’t even look big enough to properly wear the armor it had been hiding inside.

It must have stolen it. No, there was no way such a lowly creature would be wearing the armor of such a renowned knight.

Wait, what?

The smaller masked bug prodded the empty armor with their nail, the sound pulling Quirrel from his thoughts. The dulled tip of the blade made a terrible sound when dragged across the metal. Even Quirrel’s friend seemed displeased by this, jumping back at the noise.

“Well, that was exciting,” Quirrel said, looking at the dead maggot. “I wouldn’t have guessed such a bug would put up a fight like that!”

His companion didn’t look as impressed. They considered their fallen foe briefly before turning to kick at the empty armor and then wince when their foot made contact.

The end of the mace jumped up at the sound, and both Quirrel and his little friend drew their nails in alarm.

What Quirrel had initially mistook as a spiked ball of metal turned out to be another bug! It seemed completely uninterested in continuing the fight, scurrying away as fast as its legs could carry it.

“I suppose it took over this storeroom when the kingdom had fallen and the Crossroads emptied,” Quirrel continued. He glanced around, wondering if the maggot had been alone or if he and his friend were about to encounter its vengeful relatives. “I suppose staying down here for so long eventually drove it to madness.”

His small companion seemed to consider this, head tilted thoughtfully. Then they looked around. Apparently not seeing anything else worth investigating, they turned and headed back the way they had come.

Quirrel was happy to follow, not really inclined to remain in the storeroom any longer. He still wondered about that suit of armor but doubted that staring at it would make his thoughts any clearer. Maybe he would figure it out in time and maybe not. Either way, he still had the entirety of Hallownest to explore.


	6. Chapter 6

The knight ran on ahead, only pausing when the storeroom was a good distance behind them.

The fight with the false knight had shaken them a bit more than they’d expected. It hadn’t lasted long, and the knight had only gotten struck once (underestimated the false knight’s range) but their thoughts kept returning to what just happened.

What _was_ that thing? Where did it come from?

How did something as small as that maggot control such a big suit of armor??

Walking husks and buzzing flyers seemed to pale in comparison. The armor, the weapon, the way it raged when the knight managed to land a strike. It had been far more intelligent than the other enemies that roamed the Crossroads. (Though, they realized, that wasn’t really saying much).

And false or not, it wore a true knight’s armor, the first hint at the kind of majesty and grandeur of the old kingdom.

The Crossroads were near the surface and the knight hadn’t yet completely explored even that area. The heart of Hallownest lay further beneath the ground, and something told the knight that things would only get more dangerous the deeper they wandered.

Then there was Quirrel.

The knight been right about him: he did know how to use the weapon he carried.

Not that they’d had any real doubt. If he really had been traveling out in the wastelands, he’d have to be at least partially capable of defending himself. Still, it was an interesting thing, seeing such a friendly bug in combat. He hadn’t hesitated to drive the point of his blade through the false knight’s defenses, and he wasn’t perturbed by the amount of orange that erupted when he did so. He’d smiled and called the fight ‘exciting’ afterwards.

As they continued to wander, the knight realized they no longer heard Quirrel’s footsteps behind them. How far had they run ahead?

Actually, where were they?

After the false knight fell, the knight had run off through the tunnel opposite to the one they’d entered the storeroom from. Seeing as they had no idea where it led, it seemed like a promising direction to take in order to continue the adventure.

The walls around them looked almost exactly like every other cavern they’d wandered through so far. A crumbling hallway led off from the storeroom, soon merging with the natural stone that made up the rest of the Crossroads.

Warm light flickered down from an overhead walkway. Where did that lead?

The knight hesitated, glancing back the way they’d come. Finally, they could hear Quirrel, his steady footsteps growing louder as he drew closer.

“I wonder where we are now,” he said thoughtfully, the white of his mask coming into view.

The knight pointed up to the walkway.

It only took a moment to jump up for the torch to come fully into view, and there was something beside it.

A bug’s mask hung on a wooden stake.

“What an ominous warning,” Quirrel commented. He looked up to where more torches and decorated stakes led to an open door. A different kind of light spilled out, casting a soft pink glow along the shadowed ground.

The knight let him take the lead as the two crept their way along the path. Maybe it was the residual nerves from their fight with the false knight, but they had a very bad feeling about the structure before them.

Beneath their feet, the ground shifted, and they realized they were walking on faces.

No, not faces. _Masks_. (then again, what was the difference in Hallownest?) Hundreds, perhaps thousands of masks lay along the ground, covering the path all the way up to the door and then continuing on inside.

A lot of the Crossroads had ancient shells dotting the rocks, but there was something much more disturbing about seeing just masks.

The knight wanted to believe a mask maker went a little overboard at one point, and that was the reason for the excess, but something told them that likely wasn’t the case.

“I believe this might be a shaman’s temple,” Quirrel said.

The knight nodded absentmindedly. They didn’t like the looks of the place. They wanted to leave, turn right around and go back the way they came. Was there a way to go beyond the walkway they’d ascended?

Quirrel continued on ahead.

If he was so determined, the knight thought they’d take a moment to focus and heal. Whatever lay ahead, they wanted to face it with full health.

Gradually, their shell felt a bit less fragile and some of their anxiety eased. They probably should’ve done that right after the false knight fell. Perhaps that had to do with the awful feeling settling in their gut.

When the knight next looked up, Quirrel was watching them.

“Soul magic is one of the more powerful energies of this world,” he said. “Few bugs can harness it naturally.”

The knight wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

As the two were then standing just before the building at the end of the road of masks, they decided they’d think more on it later. The uneasy feeling returned, as the two headed for the door.

A bench sat a few paces away. Though the knight had no intention of pausing to sit (if they wanted to rest, they’d run back to the stagway station) the sight made them feel just a little bit better. At least if they had to heal again, they wouldn’t have to waste soul to do it. As it was, they didn’t have much left to spare.

Someone was humming a tuneless melody from within the building.

“Oho!” the voice said as soon as Quirrel and the knight stepped inside. “Who is that creeping out of the darkness? My, you're looking grim! A strange, empty face and a wicked looking weapon!”

The snail who spoke had a purple shell spiraling from the back of his head. Small faces (masks) hung on a string around his neck. He held a staff that was as tall as he was and gave an enigmatic smile as he looked down at the knight. He didn’t seem interested in acknowledging Quirrel.

The knight couldn’t respond though, so made no effort to do so.

“Hello,” Quirrel said. His tone was as friendly as ever, though his hand gripped his nail just a bit tighter. The blade was still stained orange, though it looked like he’d made a brief effort to wipe it down. “I must admit, it’s quite a surprise to –"

“Something important has drawn you down into Hallownest's corpse,” the snail continued, still not looking at Quirrel. “But I won't ask what. Perhaps the reason you've found me is because you need my help?”

Undeterred, Quirrel tried again. “Actually –”

“Say no more, friend.” The snail beckoned the knight to come closer. “I'm going to give you a gift, a nasty little spell of my own creation. It's just perfect for a little one like you! Ohoho!”

A spell?

Despite everything in them telling them not to trust the offer, the knight took a hesitant step forward. They still didn’t like the look of, well, anything about the situation, but the idea of being able to use spells was tempting.

They glanced at Quirrel.

He just shrugged, looking just a bit putout at being ignored so deliberately. “I do believe the offer is being made to you alone,” he said, looking down at the knight. “As such, I’m staying out of this.”

“I’m afraid only the little one would take to such a gift,” the snail told him. He didn’t elaborate, only began waving his staff in a slow circling motion.

White magic, _soul_ magic, seemed to flow from the mask at the end of the staff, condensing in the air until a flickering form hovered above the knight’s head. It too looked like a mask.

The knight glanced at Quirrel again. He’d said that soul magic was unstable and draining. Did he know any more?

The wanderer made a vague gesture, suggesting he’d exhausted his knowledge and the rest was out of his hands.

So much for that.

The shaman smiled serenely at them. The pale light did little to illuminate his shaded face.

Here goes nothing.

The knight jumped up and collided with the spell in a flash of sparks. The magic flowed through them much in the way soul flowed when they focused. Time felt frozen as they hung suspended in the air and rode out the rush of power, of understanding.

Then they were falling back, legs too unsteady to catch them. Everything went dark when their mask struck the ground.

When the knight woke, it was to the sound of groaning metal and shifting stone.

The world returned slowly, the shadows replacing the heavier darkness that had claimed them earlier. There was cold stone beneath their mask and a distinct lack of torchlight illuminating the cavern around them.

Quirrel was nearby, stepping away from the lever he’d just pulled. Beside him, a stone wall finished drawing aside and settled, dust raining down from the ceiling as it did. There was another space beyond.

The knight sat up and looked around. They were back in the lower cavern, the space beneath the walkway.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Quirrel said, noticing them move.

Without another way to ask what happened, the knight just stared at him.

“Yes, well,” the taller bug cast a glance upward, frowning in the general direction of the shaman’s door. “As thanks for the spell, you were expected to help clear out whatever creature had taken refuge in the temple.”

Ah.

“I would have let you deal with that when you woke,” Quirrel said. “but then the snail tried to trap you there until you completed the task, so I thought we’d depart before he got insistent. Are you alright?”

The knight nodded and found themself looking at their feet. Well, that was embarrassing. A good lesson, though. Next time, they’d listen when every instinct screamed at them to not trust the creepy snail shaman trying to give them a gift.

They glanced a bit guiltily at Quirrel as he led the way through the newly opened exit. They should probably thank him.

“I see!” Quirrel remarked as he looked around the larger cavern. “We appear to be back where we met Cornifer. It’s good to know these tunnels loop around.”

The knight would have to update their map the next time they found a bench.

There were still papers littering the ground. Paper and a weird little box that glowed faintly. When the knight tapped it with their nail, it crackled to life and Cornifer’s voice came from the speakers: _“Sorry I missed you! If you’re feeling lost, why not pop up to our store in Dirtmouth and purchase a map of this area? Available now for an excellent price!”_

The absence of cheerful humming was a bit disappointing, but maybe they’d see Cornifer again later as the two continued to explore.

Quirrel hummed, looking at the knight thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you at least get the spell promised to you?”

Oh right!

They had just enough soul for a test.

The knight looked around, searching for an enemy to try their spell on. None were in sight, so they aimed for the nearest wall.

The feeling was akin to focusing soul, though instead of flowing through the knight’s body, it escaped in a screaming hiss, the force pushing them back a step. Bright magic burst forward, tendrils of soul energy twisting around the central mass as it screamed through the air. The spell shattered, exploded, residual magic dispersing in a shower of white when it collided with the cavern wall.

Stone shuddered and dust and rock rained down. The knight jumped back when larger chunks of debris fell around their head. Maybe they should’ve aimed for the far wall instead of the one just a few paces away.

Quirrel had tugged the mask on his head down to protect his face. When the cascade of earth stopped, he tilted the mask back up and studied the scorch marks the spell left behind. “An ability like that will be valuable to you in combat. Your nail looks a fine instrument, but it's showing signs of wear. I'd wager up there it would take you far. Down here however, I suspect you'll soon meet dangers the surface world can't match.”

That’s the second time Quirrel mentioned it, and the knight was beginning to think he actually was insulting them. The sting was made worse by the fact that he was probably right.

But they’d worry about that later.

Aside from being a powerful weapon to use when their nail wasn’t enough, the spell meant the knight could attack at a distance, which was much more interesting.

Their thoughts went to the armored bug that blocked the road into Greenpath. They couldn’t think of a better place to put their newfound skill to use.

Not wanting to waste a single second, the knight jumped up to a nearby ledge, beginning the climb back to the large cavern that lay above. The Crossroads had its charm, but they’d had enough for the moment. They were going to explore the verdant wilds of Greenpath and this time, nothing was getting in their way!

“Have a plan for that new spell of yours?” Quirrel asked. He sounded amused as he followed the knight upwards. Given how much longer his legs were, it only took a moment to catch up.

The knight gave a vigorous nod.

“I will admit, I thought to perhaps head off on my own from here,” Quirrel continued as the two reached the cavern of hanging platforms. “But you truly are an intriguing creature. If you haven’t tired of my presence yet, I’d like to continue our shared exploration.”

The knight nodded again, pausing when they reached the ledge that led to Greenpath. Quirrel was good; he knew a lot about the ancient kingdom, and his presence made the quiet ruins feel just a little less dead.

Also, he saved them from being kidnapped by a snail. How terrible would the knight be if they denied him after that?

“Thank you, little friend.” Quirrel landed lightly beside them and considered the way ahead. “To Greenpath now? I do believe your spell might work very to deter the creature blocking the path.”

Well, it would if the knight had any more soul to spend on it.

They glanced up as one of those flying bugs wandered within striking distance, bumping face-first into the wall above them. A quick slash of their nail, and the severed shell clattered to the ground before rolling over the edge and disappearing into the darkness below.

“We can spare a moment for you to recharge,” Quirrel added.

As much as the knight wanted to charge on ahead, he was right. Their spell was useless if they had nothing to fuel it with.

They jumped up to a nearby platform, nail swinging at a crawling bug as it skittered across. They would clear the immediate area of danger (probably a smart thing to do even if they didn’t need the soul) before challenging the armored bug that had impeded them earlier. Teach it to make a fool of them!

And then, _finally_ , off to Greenpath!


	7. Chapter 7

Quirrel sat down on the ledge and cleaned the blade of his nail. 

His little friend jumped around, making the platforms rattle as they chased the tiktiks and gruzflies that infested the area. Their dull blade sliced through the air until orange and empty shells rained down.

That snail shaman had been an… interesting character.

Rather than fighting with him, the snail shaman had let the two go when Quirrel protested at him putting his unconscious friend in a cage

_‘Very well, scholar, I won’t keep you and the empty one from your purpose. Do mind yourselves while exploring the kingdom. You won’t get anything more from me, no matter how harshly the past treats you.’_

It wasn’t so much the words, but how the snail had said them. Not that Quirrel had any reason to trust him (quite the opposite, actually) but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the shaman knew more than he was letting on.

But what about?

Odds were that he didn’t know anything at all, but the thought had Quirrel’s mind wandering again.

As he sat and wiped the orange from his blade, Quirrel thought of Hallownest. He seemed to know so much about kingdom but truly understood so little. All around him, relics from the past were coming to life, hinting at some grand mystery, but revealing nothing. It felt like his mind and memories were doing the same.

Why was he there? The unending search for knowledge and adventure had led Quirrel to wandering through many civilizations, but this was different. It almost felt like Hallownest itself was calling to him, an unseen power gripping his soul and dragging him headfirst into whatever mysteries lay in the ruins.

Metal clanged overhead, and the cracked shell of a tiktik clattered to the ground a short way from where Quirrel was sitting. The gore cleaned from his weapon, he reached for it absentmindedly, turning the spiky shell over in his hands.

He didn’t recall reading or being told what the creature was, but he knew what to call it.

Above, his little friend continued to run around, shells and orange flying in their wake.

And what were they?

Not a bug, but Quirrel had already decided that.

Whatever they were, they could use soul, another thing he felt he knew about despite not knowing why. Despite their small stature, the little creature had an air of ancient strength about them. Their child-like enthusiasm aside, Quirrel doubted they were as young as they seemed at first glance.

Was there any further meaning to that?

If there was, Quirrel didn’t know what it might be, and wondering about it was beginning to make his head hurt.

Just as well, sitting around and overthinking wasn’t going to make anything clearer.

As if summoned by his previous musings, Quirrel’s small friend leaped down from somewhere and landed right beside him. They looked much more energetic than before and had new orange stains smeared across their cloak. The next time they found water, Quirrel thought to suggest washing it if they didn’t want the color to be permanent.

“Ready to move on?” he asked, getting to his feet.

The smaller bug (it was still simpler to call them that) gave a nod. They waved one tiny hand before gesturing enthusiastically to the moss-covered path.

“Lead the way, friend.”

They didn’t hesitate to do so, and Quirrel laughed as he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to only be 6 chapters, but Quirrel had some more to say


End file.
